


Satin Storm  (Original)

by bittenfeld



Category: Battlestar Galactica, Battlestar Galactica (1978), David Bowie (Musician), Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Male Slash, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-12 20:29:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4493616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittenfeld/pseuds/bittenfeld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jareth is a wizard-prince of a planet on a space-travel thoroughfare where ships often stop for rest and recreation.  One day a handsome young lieutenant by the name of Starbuck wanders away from the guest facilities and gets lost, only to find himself at the castle.  And very opportunely, Jareth considers, for he has been craving a new bed-mate to fill his hunger…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Disclaimer: This has nothing to do with “Labyrinth” – I have a heavy crush on Jareth, so I just use him in a completely different setting)
> 
> I previously posted this as a Star Trek AU fic. However, this is the original version.

From the window cut through the thick rock castle wall, he gazed out at the night sky and the black valley stretching out for miles from the castle’s grounds to the beach fifty miles away. The castle itself, carved into the mountainside, sat high over its lands. Three hundred feet down brutal jagged stones and impenetrable brush, a peaceful river lea provided an abrupt contrast; then beyond another copse of evergreen and cottonwood, the larger valley of plowed and tilled acreage began and stretched on to the west farther than the eye could see, down to the ocean shore. Behind the palace rose sheer granite peaks thousands and thousands of feet, alpine about half-way up, then naked gran­ite, continually snow-capped year-round. And just as the castle dominated Jareth’s domain and king­ship, so the mountains contemptuously dwarfed the pitifully arrogant human attempt at grandeur. The mountains stretched back for miles; no one had ever crossed the range on foot – there were no passes. All travelers between this kingdom and the rest of the world had to skirt the mountains by miles and miles, or go by sea… or arrive by spaceship.

Jareth’s lands, for the most part, were considered isolated from the rest of civilization, and that was just the way that Jareth liked it.

Jareth sat on the windowsill of the southwest tower, one knee drawn up, as he watched over his countryside and the late-night fog rolling in quickly from the sea. There would be rain again to­night, heavy thundershowers, before the night ended: the black sky portended torrential storms, and soon – within the hour.

He loved the rain at night, and normally he would have felt content and satisfied now. Yet something still disturbed him, something beyond the trouble with his young manservant Paul, though he couldn’t put a name to it. The last few days had troubled without telling him why; he had asked his spirit enlighteners for answers in his trances, yet for the time being his mind-guides chose to remain silent.

Cotton wisps of fog drifted across the full moon, the over-full blood-moon grown fat and sated low in the southern sky. Bright rectangle of reflected moonlight illuminated the pensive form slouched back in the window.

He was a handsome man, yet not perhaps in the purely artistic-perfection definition of the term.   Thin slightly-aquiline nose, high cheekbones; a few creases of age now hinted across his brow, the corners of thin lips, the slightly gaunt cheeks. And sometimes it wearied him to recall each of the long forty years which had passed before his eyes.

His eyes: his divine prize, his divine curse. The majority of his subjects considered his strangely unique exotic eyes to be a sign from the Holy Power that Jareth was at least a demi-god; on the other hand, more than a few considered him a witch, maybe even a devil, although none would venture to say so where they could be overheard. His irises differed bilaterally: one blue, one brown, and one pupil would not constrict in light, but remained open and full even in bright glare. And his icy stare could hypnotize, so they said, and those unnatural eyes could see the future and read a man’s mind, and gaze upon the spirits of the invisible world, so they said.

And perhaps they were right, because he did sense things that others did not, and he felt auras around people; and in trances he knew events before they happened, and his spirit advisers suggested those among his subjects who plotted and threatened his reign, and so he could take action against his stunned and surprised adver­saries when they knew he could have had no human knowledge of their subterfuge and conspirings; and so the superstition grew among those he ruled. And perhaps he _was_ a demon, perhaps his spirit advisers answered to Lucifer instead of God; perhaps one day long ago he had unknowingly bar­gained with Lucifer for a kingdom, and Lucifer had laid an absolute kingship across Jareth’s open palms with the requisition that later his adjutants would come to demand exac­tion.

Well, it that were true, then apparently payment was due now. Needles pricked his brain, stabbed his soul. What the hell was going on? _please talk to me, my lords of consciousness, tell me what it all means, what do you want of me now_? But only silence lay upon his inner hearing.

A cold breeze swept up the rocky slope below the castle, buffeted about the granite corners of the façade, and found its way into Jareth’s window; the wind tugged at his long pale white-blond hair, tossed it in a tangled satin swirl. Most of his towhead hair lay cut in a short witch-shag with ragged bangs across his forehead, and sparsely interspersed through the rest of it hung long tangled tresses halfway down his back and chest; and now with both hands he pushed the wind-blown locks off his face, then gripped the dark-blue satin cloak tighter around his slender naked forty-year-old body, but the satin could not shield him from the cold.

Of course, the situation regarding his young manservant and the captain of the guard had en­raged him monstrously; and here two days later, it still ate at his brain and refused him any peace even though he’d already punished both of them appropriately; and that matter should now be dis­missed from his mind. The captain had received a severe flogging which could have killed him had not Jareth chosen to merciful, and the youth was now spending his second twenty-four hours locked in a basement cell cold and naked and hungry and more miserable than he’d ever been in his life; and the only reason at all that Jareth had shown mercy instead of putting them both to death, was the fact that evidently they had not consummated the act, some interruption had prevented the captain’s pene­tration, so the boy’s hole still belonged to Jareth alone. Still he alone ultimately owned the young man.

But still Jareth felt cheated, like the victim of a rude practical joke, and he wanted them to suffer, he wanted them to pay dearly. What he hadn't considered though, was how badly he’d suffer too with his young man locked away, and his bed cold and empty and lonely the night before. He had very nearly given in late in the night and marched downstairs in the cold darkness to bring the boy back to his bed so they could comfort each other into warm sleep. But then his enraged pride had welled up and prevented him from rescuing the boy for at least another day or so; and so he had lain in that huge cold bed all alone, listening to the fury of the rain and hail battering his window for hours, until he had finally drifted into a restless twilight sleep a short while before dawn. But he had vowed not to spend another night alone.

He turned his head away from the night sky and toward the large bed in the middle of the huge bed-chamber. Dying firelight from the hearth flickered long shadows over the sleeping form bundled warmly in the satin down comforter, and Jareth smiled contentment. The mound shifted lan­guidly in sleep.

The mound was not his young manservant.

His mental guardians had led out into the lea earlier this evening, and he had followed un­questioningly, not understanding… until he had seen the other figure in the meadow. And suddenly, a little crack of light, a plan teased his brain, and he had smiled to himself at the revelation of his guardians’ obvious sense of humor.

New images, new information flooded his mind, unconscious thought-transference from this stranger, a foreigner, a weary intergalactic traveler stopping over temporarily at the recreation stop which Jareth so hospitably offered to weary intergalactic travelers. Most were simple civilians, vaca­tioners, a lot unused to space-travel. This particular traveler, however, was not a mere civilian. A fighter pilot from Caprica, a planet somewhere galaxies away, a lieutenant connected to a great com­mand ship called the Battlestar Galactica; a brave man, intelligent – if a little more than slightly stub­born – a handsome man, early thirties, blond, husky, very attractive. Wandered away from the facili­ties several miles away ( _why_? _what had drawn him here_?) and gotten lost. And another image had teased Jareth’s mind, a titillating suggestion that definitely merited further investigation. So Jareth had approached the disoriented wanderer to solicitously offer food, drink, and the shelter of his com­fortable cottage in anticipation of the approaching storm; and the man, named Lieutenant Starbuck, had gratefully accepted.

Over dinner they had chatted about Starbuck’s travels, Jareth’s country and people – Starbuck had found it amusedly surprising to learn that his host was ruler of this land, offering his humble abode to a stranger as a simple commoner might – and that the ‘humble abode’ was a castle. And they shared the same tales of battle and brew and women that soldiers and armies share universally. And through it all, one same teasing thought grew stronger and stronger in Jareth’s brain, and finally, one time whey they sat close, Jareth reached out a gentle hand to rest on Starbuck’s thigh, and leaned closer, gaze touching moist lips that he desired to kiss.

Instantly Starbuck had retracted in shock and surprise, but Jareth knew he had not misjudged, even as Starbuck had pulled away and nervously risen from the table. For even though Starbuck had reacted strongly, there was not the horror that a straight heterosexual man would have responded with. Immediately Starbuck had protested, but Jareth countered him … _no, I know you really want it, I know you like it, I know you share yourself with other men_ …

… _how could you know_? Starbuck had demanded, then realizing that was practically a state­ment of admission, immediately insisted … _no, you’re wrong, I have no such obscene desires, hey, I’ve got half-a-dozen girlfriends back on the Galactica_ …

… _and how many boyfriends_? Jareth had queried with a smile… _I know you prefer males, I know you’ve had male lovers, let’s go to bed right now and make love to each other_ …

… _where did you get such crazy ideas_?...

… _from your mind, I have telepathic abilities, I can read your mind_ …

… _no, you’re crazy, you’re lying_ …

… _you know I’m not lying, you know it’s the truth_ … And Jareth had smiled again, indul­gently, amused by this man’s flustered attempts to hide what lay so blatantly exposed to Jareth’s fourth-dimensional sight.

… _well, so maybe I do_ , Starbuck had finally admitted, _but I don’t know you, I can’t sleep with someone I don’t know_ …

… _now_ you’re _lying_ , Jareth had grinned… _you’ll sleep with anyone who’ll shove a prick up inside you_ …

… _well, maybe I used to, but not anymore_ …

And then Jareth had slipped arms around Starbuck’s body and touched parted lips to the younger man’s face; and a warm feeling oozed through the prince’s muscles, and momentarily Star­buck had relaxed and responded with sensual pressure up and down the older man’s firm excited body; and for a few short moments, they had pleasured each other with teasing sexual promises. And for a few short moments, Jareth forgot about a tender sensual youth suffering miserably in a black filth-infested hole; and his whole being was consumed with lust for this other male, this tough mascu­line warrior-lieutenant, cocky fighter pilot, who might very well aspire to a position of authority – such as captain of the guard? – and then Jareth presumed to slide one desirous groping hand between the other man’s thighs. Abruptly then, the younger blond had tried to pull away like a sleeper slightly disoriented by a sharp awakening, murmuring an embarrassed excuse about having to get back to town and his companions and his ship, that he had wandered away without telling anyone where he was going, and they were probably searching for him right now; and Commander Adama would no doubt, at the very least, break his rank for going AWOL.

And then without warning, the younger man, so tough and in control of himself, had sharply doubled over, gripped his belly, dropped to his knees, and uncontrollably vomited his guts out.

… a little miscalculation on Jareth’s part – obviously this foreigner had little tolerance for the little surprise which Jareth had added to their dinners: a sweet mead well known locally for its potent aphrodisiac powers. Jareth had drunk a glassful himself, but then he was years-used to enjoying the ‘heady’ substance.

So Jareth had helped him and cleaned up after him, and then assisted him upstairs to the bed­room and tucked him into the large comfortable bed, spread with plush blankets, and a satin comfor­ter, and thick down pillows.

And now, hours later, while Starbuck rested and recuperated in warmth and comfort, Jareth still sat on the cold window ledge, trying to make sense of the last few days, trying to decipher the enigmatic half-thoughts which his enlighteners teased him with. What the hell did it all mean?

Or maybe that’s exactly what it meant.

Without warning, the sky exploded in a fury of rain and hail and lightning. Showers poured down, gale winds sprayed water into the room with surprising violence.

Immediately Jareth rose from the ledge and reached out into the storm to pull the windows shut and latch them tightly against the onslaught. Then carelessly dropping his wet satin cloak onto the stone floor, he walked naked over to the bed and slid his cold body beneath the warm plush covers to enjoy the body-warmth of his bed-partner.

Starbuck half-awakened with a moan. “… where am I?” he started to ask, then surrendered with a tired groan.

“How do you feel?” Jareth urged, resting an arm across the other man’s body.

“A little sick… better than I did…”

“Good, I’m glad,” and Jareth smiled to himself. He felt better too. The mead always aroused him pleasurably, and he was excited anyway by the prospect of tasting new meat. So unlike Paul – this new man – such a contrast to Paul’s delicate effeminacy. Jareth could hardly wait to impale this handsome blond warrior, and slide in and out, the sensation of tight moist warmth squeezing his throbbing organ. Damn, his brain threatened to explode with such tantalizing ecstasy!

Outside the heavens roared wildly, the storm at fever pitch. Rain battered the heavy windows, a deafening fusillade, threatening to break through into the room in an icy torrent; but here inside, the dying embers in the hearth still gave off comforting warmth, and Jareth moved closer to his bed-mate – how hot-blooded this young lieutenant must be!

“Come here,” Jareth whispered huskily, “keep me warm.” And Starbuck obligingly squirmed closer to the older man, then lowered his weight on top of Jareth’s body, his mouth found the side of Jareth’s neck.

A moan of satisfaction rumbled from the prince’s throat, damn this was good! And momen­tarily his brain considered young Paul suffering desperately down below, but then dismissed him completely without another trace of thought for the rest of the night.

Warmth settled between Jareth’s thighs, his arms embraced Starbuck’s body, as their groins rubbed together sensually. Slowly, erotically, Jareth moved against the oppressive weight, then one hand slid up to clutch a fistful of thick dark-blond hair, while the other stroked warm hard-muscled buttocks.

Then, without warning, a finger thrust all the way in.

. . . . .

 _to be continued_ …


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jareth craves this warrior, Starbuck, for his own, and he will take the golden body that is offered to him…

Starbuck reacted, a sharp intake of breath between clenched teeth, a trembling moan as the en­ticing finger worked provocatively deep inside, stimulating vigorously, then a contented exhalation, and then Starbuck began working his abdomen sensually against the older man’s, rubbing in a flat circular motion, and thrusting up with pressure in the first suggestions of sexual penetration and con­summation which later they would both achieve on each other. The prince’s finger continued to work up inside Starbuck’s rectum, in and out, ceaseless in its powerful stimulation almost to the point of pain; and unwilled, adrenalin poured into Starbuck’s bloodstream, and sweat leaked from his pores, and the younger man’s breath deepened, his muscles trembling uncontrollably; and, increased by the mead’s potency, the digital probing nearly pushed him over the edge into orgasm. Starbuck’s thrus­ting increased; even without penetration he readied himself to come right here over Jareth’s belly.

But Jareth wouldn’t let him. Years of experience had taught Jareth a great deal and polished his technique to perfection, and he knew how to force instant results, and he also knew how to attenu­ate the pleasurable anguish to nearly-unbearable heights.

Then pulling his finger out of the hot moist channel, he gripped Starbuck’s shoulders to hold him still, interrupt the frottage. Starbuck whimpered a little in disappointment.

Now the young lieutenant looked up as Jareth’s fingers slid through short dark-blond tresses. Whimpers turned into purrs. One bony knee pushed possessively between Starbuck’s legs, intimately suggestive, as Jareth finger-combed through the silk-fine hair. Then lightly his touch strayed over a smooth-shaven cheek; one finger under the chin tilted Starbuck’s head back slightly. Moist parted lips aroused another quiver of passion in Jareth’s crotch.

His arms slid around the young man’s slender body, pinned Starbuck’s arms, squeezed him tightly. “Relax,” the mellow voice whispered, “just relax and enjoy it now.” His lips and tongue tasted the slightly moist texture of Starbuck’s throat; he pulled the younger man even tighter to him­self so he could feel their hard cocks press together.

A tight breath released abruptly from Starbuck’s lips, his shoulders slumped, his head fell forward on Jareth’s shoulder. He was breathing though his mouth, eyes closed, body trembling with sexual need. Jareth’s hands caressed him, up and down his body; one hand squeezed his shoulder, then worked its way down to his buttocks, gripped, rubbed, massaged… slowly… firmly…

Starbuck moaned again.

Jareth wanted to spread this flesh so badly, so very badly. His hands rubbed the firm but­tocks, down the inside of muscular thighs, then back up to an unprotected crotch, pressed hard, cupped the bulge of swollen balls. He finger-massaged the valuable package, worked it, manipulated it, felt its bulk in his hand.

He was breathing shallow gasps through his mouth now too.

“… uh…” a guttural moan from Starbuck, the only sound from deep in his throat. Slowly, dreamily, he slipped his head down until his lips touched Jareth’s left nipple.

A sharp breath blew from Jareth’s nostrils, followed by a slower deeper exhalation of satis­faction. More firmly now, Starbuck pressed his mouth to the other man’s tit, tongued it, sucked it. Jareth took the younger man’s head with both hands, fingers clutching blond silk, holding the face tight to his breast. He drank in the alcoholic sensation, then Starbuck suddenly jumped the feeling ten-fold by working one groping hand between them to find Jareth’s testicles and squeeze. The warmth from the manipulating hand drove the temperature of Jareth’s already-hot groin sky-high. Heat climbed into his body, hot blood throbbed in his ears, threatened to explode his very being.

“… gods…” Jareth breathed.

Slowly Starbuck gained confidence. He gripped Jareth’s sweat-damp scrotum more firmly now to rub, massage, drive its owner to the brink of frenzy. Then deliberately he slipped his hand back out, leaving Jareth moaning and quivering – obviously he could play that game as well as his host.

And still he sucked on the captive tit as hard as he could. Jareth was gasping for breath. He thrust his groin against Starbuck’s body to regain the hot passion, _please don’t let it stop now… please please oh god please_ …

A harsh whisper. “Bite it.”

Obligingly Starbuck pinched the nipple with his teeth, rubbed his tongue all over the little erection, as Jareth’s hands continued to guide his head.

“Harder,” Jareth moaned, eyes closed, “bite it harder.”

Starbuck obeyed, nipping and nipping, until a sharp little “oh!” of pain broke from Jareth’s lips, and Jareth’s fingers clutched convulsively at Starbuck’s hair, tugging until it hurt Starbuck.

Then abruptly Jareth had had enough of that. He released Starbuck for a moment, just enough time to roll them over, Starbuck face-down and Jareth on top of him beneath the bed-covers.

He wanted to fuck the young man right then and there. Spread that hot ass and fuck him deep, as deep as Jareth could go. To hell with any more foreplay… but then it would be over too soon, way too soon. He wanted this to last all night. He wanted to take the young man more than just once. As many times as he could possibly get it up, he wanted to shove it up this man again and again, and shoot off his load deep inside an eager hot tight hole.

A dozen times if he could. A hundred.

Sensually he milked the pre-ejaculate from his own weeping organ, then slowly, gently, worked one lubricating finger up into Starbuck’s rectum.

“… ohh…” Starbuck groaned, half in pain, half in abrupt arousal.. His hands, stretched over his head, clutched the pillow. “… please… please…”

Jareth’s testicles tightened, his prick squirmed in sudden sharp pleasure. Firmly his middle finger worked in and out of Starbuck’s opening. The young man’s tight anus clenched convulsively on Jareth’s finger. Hot and tight and wet. The pleasure intoxicated Jareth. Again his cock jerked involuntarily. He needed to shove it up the younger man right now, or risk going mad. He didn’t mean to intentionally hurt the young man, but oh god he want to violate that erotic little hole!

Now he worked two fingers in and out of Starbuck’s rectum. Moans broke from Starbuck’s throat between clenched teeth. Jareth worked more fluid inside. He didn’t want the anal tissue to tear – he’d make sure the welcoming channel was well-lubricated before he slid his blood-swollen prick into that slick tunnel and rammed all the way home.

Then bracing his arms on either side of Starbuck’s head, Jareth stretched his legs between his bed-mate’s spread thighs, then lowered himself on top. Slowly he exhaled a long sigh. He could feel uncontrollable trembling beneath him. He worked his hands around Starbuck’s chest. “Come on, relax,” he urged quietly into Starbuck’s hair, felt the warmth of his breath radiate back into his own face. “Come on.” He smiled gently, coaxingly.

Again he pressed his face into the silken hair. He kissed it. Kissed it again and again, enjoy­ing the texture with his lips, searching for unkissed spots to taste, searching the nape of Starbuck’s neck for tender areas. His own long shaggy pale tresses drifted against both their faces. His body moved seductively, suggestively against Starbuck’s. His hands roamed freely over the younger man’s muscular physique. Sweat slicked both their naked bodies as they squirmed against each other. Desirously Jareth gripped Starbuck’s buttocks, grinding his groin against Starbuck’s ass. A drop of sweat dripped off Jareth’s wet face onto Starbuck’s back.

Beneath the sweat smell, the unique scent of this man teased Jareth’s nostrils. He took a deep breath of the odor.

He wanted this man for his own.

Damn, he wanted this man in his bed every night. They hadn't even fucked once yet, but Jareth already knew that he wanted this young warrior-lieutenant in his bed for the rest of all their nights.

And then his hot swollen tight prick could not wait a moment longer.

Spreading Starbuck with one hand, he used the other to guide his blood-hot organ against the anus. The hole was tight; Starbuck was trying to relax as best he could. Jareth propped himself over the body beneath, and thrust smoothly, rhythmically, against the tight anus. He didn’t want to rip the younger man, but he had to – _must_! – gain entrance.

The pre-sem facilitated his penetration, even through the clenched anus.

– then… damn, he was in!... he practically lost his load right then and there… hot and tight and wet… cock sliding firmly into a hot slick rectum… Somewhere in the corner of his mind he heard Starbuck whimper in pain, but it hardly registered, right now his entire being was focussed intently on the brain-searing sensation of hot slick sheath. Sweat drenched his body, soaked long pale tresses, stung his eyes, trickled and dripped off his own body onto Starbuck’s. Frantically he thrust now, _please please please, release, please, please_ … the tension in his prick and balls grew unbearable, almost a screaming pain in his loins… _please let loose now please_! His body tortured him on the edge of orgasm… he’d waited so long, _please don’t make me wait another second_ …!

Explosion of searing white light. Hot wetness shooting into the young man’s opening, a good load of it. Ramming frantically. A tiny moan of exquisite pleasure and pain. Ramming and ram­ming. Beneath him, Starbuck spasmed, pounding his loins against the bed. Sweat running in rivu­lets… unable to catch a breath… ramming, ramming… _oh god please don’t stop yet please please please_ … ramming so hard, so hard, clutching the fading tendrils of mind-blasting orgasm… _don’t stop so soon please don’t oh god please oh god oh god_ …

The sensation wafted, then finally drifted away. Jareth thrust again, but the ecstasy was slowly dissipating. Another thrust, half-hearted. Finally – nothing. Fire-blaze quenched by a thun­derstorm of passion which was this young man.

Jareth collapsed on top of his younger lover. The blinding ecstasy had lasted only a few short moments. He wanted more, so much more.

Beneath him, Starbuck still thrust against the bed in his final few seconds of orgasm, then he too relaxed face-down on the mattress, dragging deep uneven vocal breaths, muscles trembling with total exhaustion, sweat pouring.

Jareth continued to lie on top of Starbuck, his organ still penetrating the wet warmth of the younger man’s opening. After waiting so long, he didn’t want to break contact so soon. His face pressed against Starbuck’s hair, his chest heaved with desperate breaths. He hadn't been this drained in a very long time. Now all he wanted to do was sleep off this lethargy, this lassitude for a couple of hours, then start all over again. They had a great deal more ground to cover before this orgy was through.

The storm outside had let up some, and now raindrops pattered steadily at the windows. The fire in the hearth had settled down into embers, releasing its last radiance into the large stone-granite bed-chamber. And two bodies slept in the warmth of each other, beneath the welcome weight of down comforter and heavy blankets, relaxing in the peace of post-coital satiation.

Jareth awoke still lying on Starbuck, still penetrating, still face pressed against Starbuck’s hair. He wondered how long he’d been asleep. Grey morning light filtered through the wet win­dows. The sun had been up for at least an hour.

Once more Jareth kissed Starbuck’s hair, lips caressing silk, then found his cheek, the corner of his lips. He enjoyed the firm texture of Starbuck’s lips, stroked a hand down the young man’s slick hairless body. Anticipation for the hours ahead tingled his brain. He hadn't felt this good in a long time.

For now he’d go into the bathroom and clean up from their first joining. After Starbuck awoke, Jareth would have breakfast brought up for both of them. And then, after a respite, they’d explore greater pleasures with each other’s body.

Gently, so as not to disturb Starbuck, Jareth uncoupled, then slid off, pushed himself from the bed, and went into the small adjoining room. From the large pitcher on the nightstand, he poured water into a bowl, then soaked a cloth and wiped himself all over. The cold water needled his skin icily, abruptly shattering any last sleep-haze. He soaped up, then rinsed. Maybe Starbuck would soon join him in this bath, and they would kiss and fondle wet bodies, and fingers would explore openings, and Jareth’s wet soapy prick would slide easily into Starbuck’s tight hole…

Jareth took hold of his organ, limp now, but soon to grow rigid again for another chance at that blond warrior’s bodily entrance. He grinned, and his limp flesh squirmed electrically at the titil­lating suggestion. Absently he thumbed the glans, pleasuring himself ever so lightly.

And then he looked up, sensing Starbuck’s gaze on him. The young man stood at the archway to the bath alcove, naked, smiling at him.

Jareth returned the smile. “You know, you’re very good,” he murmured.

“I hardly did anything,” Starbuck admitted, lips tugging into a tiny grin. “As I recall, you did most of the work last night.”

Taking a large plush blue towel from the rack, Jareth rubbed his face and dripping hair, then began drying off. “Well, we shall have to correct that, then. After breakfast, you may take your turn.”

But Starbuck only shook his head. “I can’t stay. I’ve got to get back to town now. I’ve got to leave right away.”

“Why?”

“My ship breaks orbit today. I have to be on it, or face disciplinary action.”

Yesterday’s chill tightened into a familiar knot in Jareth’s belly. All the night’s warmth seemed to drain from him. He could feel the tendrils of obsession slip into his brain, into his solar plexus. “I want you to stay with me,” he revealed, realizing somewhere in the back of his mind that he’d never come this close to begging before. “I would make you captain of the guard. I need a commanding officer for my personal guard – my previous captain has… dishonored himself. You would receive many… benefits.”

The younger man’s gaze moved over the tall lean body before him, but then he shook his head again, smiling sadly. “If I stayed, it would be desertion of my own duties, and I would face court-martial. What would you do to one of your own soldiers who deserted?”

Jareth felt the cold settle in his belly. This was one battle he knew he was destined to lose. He admitted stonily, “I would have him arrested and executed.”

Shoulders lifted in acknowledgement. “Well, I probably wouldn’t be executed for being away without leave, but I would be arrested and confined, and probably have my rank broken. So even if I wanted to, I can’t stay. Either I leave on my own, or the ship’s security guards come and take me away forcibly.”

Jareth stepped up to him, took hold of his upper arms, pressed their naked bodies together once again, looked down at the handsome face. “If you could, would you want to stay?”

The lithe body leaned into the touch ever so subtly. “Don’t ask me that.”

“I’m asking you. Do you want to stay here with me?”

Starbuck stood against him for a long minute before answering. Then the young Caprican officer replied openly, “I want to return to my ship now… and then later I want to return to you. Maybe later, I’ll have some of leave. I can spend it here if you want me to.”

“I want you to.” And then Jareth’s arms tightened about the desirable body, and he leaned down for a deep hard kiss while his tongue presumed entrance into a warm wet mouth. He tasted the unique tastes of this man, tastes that would remain in his memory until they were renewed. He would have this bed-mate back again some way, somehow. He promised himself that.

But then he released that sensual mouth, looked down through half-lidded eyes at the flushed face, felt their touching organs trying to renew the passion of a few hours ago… and Jareth would have liked nothing better than to climb back into bed with this warm flesh and renew that passion completely. His loins ached with need. And the bed was so close.

Instead, he let go of the shoulders and pushed past the tantalizing body into the main chamber again; went over to the large wardrobe and took out some clothes. Casually, belying the desire in his blood, he offered, “You may bathe if you wish, and then when you’re dressed, I’ll take you into town.

“Thank you,” the young hot-blooded warrior-lieutenant acknowledged, and heat flickered behind blue eyes, “… for everything.”

And Jareth felt that heat mingle with his own, simmer in his loins.

And during the carriage drive back into town, while the two of them exchanged nothing heavier than a little casual banter, Jareth had to forcibly still his urge to drag this golden body down to the rain-lushened underbrush, and re-play their night acquaintance.

And for a long time after the golden form had gone, Jareth sat in the carriage and stared up at the cloud-obscured heavens, and wondered just how far away the silver battle-machine hovered on pulsing engines, holding its treasure from him.

He turned the carriage around, urged the harnessed beasts back toward the castle. When he returned home, he would call Paul up from the dungeon, and perhaps give some of his need to the boy’s soft flesh. However, he well knew that the act would only temporarily abate the fire within his body and soul; there would be no satiation.

Instead, his passion blaze would have to await the return of the storm.

  
* * * * * **FINIS** * * * * *


End file.
